


Entropy

by HiddenDirector



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kidnapping, Lance is the dad everyone needs, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, loose timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2020-08-10 10:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20133979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenDirector/pseuds/HiddenDirector
Summary: In a stroke of genius, Entrapta declares that Hordak should have the world's greatest independent First Ones researcher be brought to the Horde to assist them.  Now, George must pick his sword up once more, something he swore he'd never do, to rescue his husband with the help of their son and his friends.However, Lance may not need as much rescuing as they thought.  Who knew one librarian could be so much trouble for an evil empire?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This plays fast and loose with the canon timeline, and I apologize if that confuses anyone. This was just a silly idea a friend and I were brainstorming that came down to, "What if the Horde kidnapped Lance, and he accidentally became all of the villains' dad?" Thus, despite the kidnapping tag, this isn't going to be the most serious fic on the Horde's side of it. On George's though? Buckle in.
> 
> I'll be adding character, relationship, and additional tags as I go, depending on exactly what direction this goes.

The Horde had come to a bit of a standstill on the advancement of their technology. Entrapta’s assistance in incorporating First Ones tech was invaluable, giving them the boost they needed to stand toe-to-toe with the Princesses. However, they needed more. They needed better.

“What we need is a better understanding of the First Ones!”

Emily jumped, Imp sliding off of her as Entrapta made the loud declaration. Hordak barely reacted outside of pausing in his work, turning his head to glance at his compan- er, lab partner. Yes, that was the term. Certainly. “And why do we need that?” he asked shortly, returning his attention to the circuits he was fusing.

“Because if we understood the First Ones better, we could improve our abilities to both find and utilize First Ones tech!” Entrapta said enthusiastically. “Think about everything we could do! Everything we could learn!” She pulled herself up to the ceiling by her hair, lowering herself in front of Hordak upside-down. “Come on, you know I’m right!”

Hordak looked up at her and fought the impulse to smile. “Very well, but where do you propose we find more information on the First Ones than we already have? And don’t say Adora, you know capturing her is beyond our power at the moment.” He hated admitting that out loud, but it needed to be said.

“I’m so glad you asked!” Entrapta all but shouted, dropping herself from where she was hanging and flipping onto the ground on the other side of the Horde Commander’s workbench. She was holding her mini-computer up where he could see it. On it was a picture of the Whispering Woods. “So! I was doing some digging into places of interest, and it seems your soldiers have at some point spotted a building in the Whispering Woods. I thought it was just abandoned at first, but then I realized the whole place looks too clean to be. The area around it is completely maintained.” She clicked on the screen with the end of a pigtail a few times, the image of the building appearing and then zooming in a few times. “This is the image they gave us, which if we zoom in _juuuuust right…_” The Princess stopped when she was fully zoomed in on a fuzzy image of a window. “Clean up the image, sharpen it… aaaaand… TA-DAH!”

Hordak leaned in to get a better idea of what he was looking at. After a moment, though, his red eyes widened. There, in the window, there was a man. Dark-skinned, with long, pulled-back dreadlocks. That wasn’t what caught his attention, though. In his hand was what looked like a piece of stone encrusted with a deep, red jewel. There was barely visible writing that was by now very familiar, if barely legible even with the sharpened image. “Is that…?”

“_A First Ones artifact!”_ Entrapta yelled excitably, throwing up her hands as she took hold of the device with her pigtails. She pointed with her fingers around him. “And look! You can see more of it! Whoever this is, he’s a collector! And where you’ll find a collector who works this hard at preserving it, you’ll find-!”

“Someone who studies it,” Hordak finished for her, though far more calmly. “Of course. We knew some people studied the First Ones, there are even fields on it at the universities. But we never considered there was someone who did it independently.”

“This is the person we need! An open, clear mind, untainted by ‘common knowledge!’ He’s perfect!” The more excited Entrapta seemed to get about it, the faster she talked.

“I agree,” Hordak said cautiously, raising a hand and placing it on top of the minicomputer, lowering it, so he was looked directly at his lab partner. “But how do you plan on sending my men to the right place? The Whispering Woods is not a place you can simply navigate. It’s a natural maze.”

“I’ve been considering that!” Entrapta declared, turning the computer around and tapping at it. She zoomed out of the image of the house until it showed the area around it as well. “Adora and her friends have been able to navigate it just fine, so obviously it _is_ navigable. However, I have the theory that if you know exactly what you’re looking for and where it is, such as if you’ve been there before then you’ll be able to find it without trouble. That’s why when your men go into the Whispering Woods, they always can come back out here to the Fright Zone. Because they _know_ where the exit to it is. However, if they tried to find, say, the exit to Bright Moon, the woods will naturally adjust and shift to make them disoriented because they don’t _know_ where it is. Thus, through this theory, if you send the men who took this image in the first place, they’ll be able to find this building again easily!” She paused, scratching her head. “I mean, then again, this could be completely wrong. But like I said, your men can find the Fright Zone again just fine if they go in, so if they fail all they have to do is come back. I mean, if they don’t run into any Princesses and get their _butts_ utterly demolished! That’s always a possibility.” She didn’t say it with any form of mockery. Simply stated it as a fact.

A fact that the Horde’s esteemed leader was unfortunately acutely aware of. “Very well, I’ll summon the scouting party that found this home in the first place. I will send them with a party of soldiers to retrieve the man in this image.” And if they failed, they’d be sorely punished. He didn’t say that part out loud, though. For some reason, the idea of failure heeding consequences upset Entrapta.

“Great!” Entrapta pulled herself back to the ceiling and dropped back down to her own workstation, humming happily.

While the Princess wasn’t looking at him, Hordak finally smiled, if only a small one. He turned and left to carry out Entrapta’s plan, Imp staying behind to keep an eye on the lab. He had no doubt the violet-haired Princess could take care of herself in an emergency, but he wouldn’t risk her wellbeing. She was too valuable to him.

His plans. To his plans.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George comes home to discover his worst nightmare come to pass.
> 
> Meanwhile, Lance wakes up in the Fright Zone.

George had only been gone for a few hours. It wasn’t an unusual thing, though he always felt just a little nervous doing it. It was necessary. Someone had to go get supplies, and as much as he loved his home and his husband, it was nice to get out of the library every once in a while. He could keep himself occupied with what he needed on his way to the nearest village with a market. Occupied with buying things, looking at everything while there. But when he returned, his mind was no longer able to keep from wandering.

The former soldier still remembered the feeling, all these years ago, clear as day. Returning to his village, finding it razed to the ground, everyone he loved gone. Whether captured or murdered, he still didn’t know what the worst fate to consider was. What made it worse was that the memory didn’t just linger; it festered like an open wound. Reopening whenever he was away from the library, conjuring images of returning to find it destroyed as well. That he couldn’t save someone he loved again.

George shook the thought out of his head as he approached the library they called home, knowing it was ridiculous. There was no safer place than the Whispering Woods. The Horde didn’t know how to find their home, so they’d always be safe there.

His irrational fears melted as the library came into view. Still standing, because of course it was. Lance would be inside, waiting for him, flittering around like an excitable bird. It made George smile thinking about it. He was always surprised, but pleasantly so, whenever he thought of how Lance hadn’t changed in the least since they met. He was glad, though. Someone needed to remain positive in the world they lived in.

George’s good feelings stopped cold when he approached the door.

It was open.

George knew he closed it when he left, and even if he didn’t, Lance would have. There were very clear rules on what windows and doors were allowed to stay open and for how long, being as there were ancient artifacts, books, and scrolls inside. They couldn’t risk anything becoming damaged by too much exposure. He pushed the door open, and his breath stopped. Everything stopped.

Even time seemed to stop for him.

The library was all but destroyed. First Ones artifacts, books, and scrolls were all missing, the rest of the collection scattered across the floor. In the middle of it all was a helmet he recognized well. It was Horde. He became less worried about that as he started to realize the most important constant in the library was missing. “**Lance?!**” he screamed, dropping the bags he was carrying and running past the library into the hall beyond it that led to their home. “Lance, where are you?!” He frantically tore through the house, checking each and every room. Calling his husband’s name over and over again.

When that didn’t work George ran outside, anywhere Lance may have escaped to, may have hidden. But nothing. Lance was gone.

Lance was _gone_.

George walked back to the library numbly, stumbling in his steps. He collapsed on the step leading up to it. He stared at his hands, thinking back to when he left. When he last saw his husband.

_“Be careful out there, George.”_

_“I always am.”_

George had put his hands on Lance’s face – dusted with whiskers – and pulled him into a kiss. Lance always held his hand until George stepped into the woods. Lance never went that step further with him.

The tall, bespeckled librarian had never left the library. Never went beyond its borders. He wanted to, sure, but the idea of it also terrified him. He would rather see the world from his books and research. Artifacts and papers delivered to him previously by suppliers that ran them between scholars, now by their more adventurous children.

George had always worried for him because of it, that he’d never see more of the world from inside his family home. But he was caught between his want for Lance to blossom as he knew he could seeing the places he loved reading about in person and the fact that the library was the safest place in the world for him.

At least… it was. How did the Horde find them? Why did they take his husband? What could they want with him?

No, none of that mattered now. The fact was that he was gone. George failed to protect his home again. The Horde took something else from him, and he was powerless by the sin of his very absence to prevent it.

_They took Lance._

George clenched both fists and jaw, standing up and walking back towards the entrance to the library – their home, which the Horde violated and wrecked – punching the doorframe on the way. The action caused a shock of pain to shoot into his hand, up his arm, and to his brain. But it didn’t hurt anywhere as much as he was going to hurt whoever took Lance from him.

The retired soldier marched to their bedroom, pulling out a key and unlocking the cabinet in the back. There sat his armor and sword. He never thought he’d ever be reaching for them again. In fact, he’d wanted to throw them away, but Lance had convinced him otherwise. _“We’re historians! This is a part of history. Yours. **Ours**.”_

Theirs. George’s armor, but part of both of their past. George’s sword, but part of the legacy of both of their family now.

It still fit. George wasn’t surprised. He still worked out every day to keep in shape, not wanting to feel like the peaceful life made him lazy or complacent. As much as he regretted joining the Rebellion, military life had suited him well.

Lance never had to work out. He was never unmoving. Even when reading, researching, he did it while pacing. The only time George saw him sit still was when he was writing his findings down, and even then, he fidgeted. George loved that about him. That Lance could act like time never moved forward for him, like he was still the 19-year-old history buff he met all those years ago. That unlike George, who knew he was greying, Lance seemed timeless. The most he’d developed was laugh lines around the corners of his always smiling lips, and they only made him more beautiful.

George loved everything about Lance.

That was why he picked up his sword, giving it a couple of experimental swings. It still felt natural in his grip, which he couldn’t tell whether it was a good or bad thing. He was a bit rusty by now, but he hoped it didn’t come to having to actually fight anyone.

But he would if it came to that. He’d strike down whoever he had to.

For now, though, George had to get to Bright Moon. He wasn’t so blinded by his anger that he thought he could take on the Horde on his own. To get his husband back, he had to turn to the one group he swore he’d never ally with again.

George had to enlist the help of the Princess Alliance.

======

Lance’s head hurt.

Okay, that was an understatement.

Lance’s _everything_ hurt.

What had happened?

The librarian remembered being home alone. George was getting supplies, primarily ink, which they didn’t usually run out of but ever since finding out one of Bow’s friends was She-Ra, Lance had been in a tizzy trying to update all of his research. Adora was regularly visiting, helping to translate as many texts to Etherian as possible. Anyway, while George was gone Lance started to really go over some of the translations they’d already done in detail and what it meant for their research.

What happened after that…?

Right. The door. Someone knocked on the door. Lance hadn’t even given it a thought before he opened the door, getting used to people coming and going regularly since Bow revealed he was in the Rebellion. Honestly, the library hadn’t had this much outside activity in… ever. He was thrilled to have so many new people.

So when he opened the door, Lance had been confused to see a boy he’d not met before. Something about him was off… but what was it? Lance was disarmed by his messy blond hair and large, tired-looking eyes. He’d been holding a small computer like the one Bow used. When he looked up from it at Lance, he’d looked behind himself and said something.

_“That’s him, guys.”_

That was the last thing Lance remembered before he blacked out. What was it about the boy that was so odd? Something about his clothes.

No, not clothes. Armor.

Horde armor.

Lance gasped, and his eyes flew open, sitting up and looking around. He was in a… well, it looked like a cell, but it looked like it was made practically that day out of random scraps welded together. Beyond the metal bars of it, the room was dark save for the glow of a massive computer screen on the other side. He seemed to be completely alone.

Lance felt his breath pick up as he tried not to panic. The first time he was ever out of his home, his library, and he was captured by the Horde. That could only mean he was in the Fright Zone. The _last_ place in the world he’d want to visit if he ever dared to leave.

“You’re awake! GREAT!”

Lance screeched, not his most masculine moment, when something – no, someone? – suddenly appeared in front of the cell, hanging upside down from the ceiling. He stumbled backward to the cot in his make-shift cell, trying to get as far as possible. In his shock, it took until his heart stopped trying to choke him and returned to his chest before he realized the person was hanging by their _hair_. Long, violet pigtails that seemed to completely defy gravity. _Magic_.

That was impossible, though. The Horde didn’t have magic outside of Shadow Weaver, according to George. Only Princesses and sorcerers did. And why would they ever join the Horde?

Part of the librarian’s shock had come from the fact that the person’s face was covered with a mask of some sort, black metal with round, red lenses for the eyes. “Wh-who are you?” he asked uncertainly. He couldn’t hide his nerves.

“Oh, shoot, right! Introductions!” the person dropped down from the ceiling, removing the mask. That was when Lance realized it was a woman. “I’m Entrapta! Scientist, inventor, researcher, Princess!”

The more she spoke, the more relaxed Lance felt, though he was still on edge. He did, however, finally stop trying to climb onto the cot. At least, until… _something_ came over to the bars and made odd beeping sounds at him. It was as large as Entrapta, round, with a glowing polygon in the middle of it that he guessed was an eye.

“Oh, this is Emily!” Entrapta introduced, patting the thing on its head. “Don’t worry, she won’t hurt you. I mean, unless I asked, but why would I do that? You’re going to be my new research assistant! Can’t go wasting a perfectly good First Ones expert, right?!” She laughed, snorting as she did.

That caught Lance’s attention. He perked up. “You… you know about my First Ones research?” he asked, confused. How could they know that? Sure, scholars across Etheria knew he studied them independently, but if the Horde were going around kidnapping experts in the field, he would have received a warning from his colleagues.

“Sure! It’s a long story, but we just got a _really_ lucky break. A patrol happened by your house and blah blah blah, you know the rest,” Entrapta waved a hand dismissively. “So, how much _do_ you know about the First Ones?” She wasn’t demanding the answer. She sounded like one scholar asking another. Her excited grin told Lance that was basically what she was.

“Well… uh… how about this?” Lance asked cautiously, walking towards the bars. He knew he was taking a risk with this, being as Entrapta obviously worked for the Horde, but he had to at least try. “I’ll answer your question, and then I can ask you one. When you answer it, you can ask me another. We’re both researchers, it’s only fair to give each _other _information.” He tried to smile cheerfully, but he wasn’t sure how effective it was. While the woman obviously didn’t plan on hurting him, he couldn’t be sure what may sour her mood.

Entrapta seemed to consider this, one of her pigtails coming up to rub her chin while she thought. Lance held his breath during this, hoping that he didn’t accidentally offend her. After a minute of this, in which she seemed to seriously think about it, she finally brightened again. “That’s a _great_ idea!” She folded her pigtails, which appeared to be able to change length and thickness to her will. They formed a seat under herself, crossing her legs and putting an elbow on her knees, chin in her hand. “Alright, you first! I asked you my question already!”

“Oh! Um… I don’t know how to answer that question exactly,” Lance said, crossing his arms and placing a finger to his chin. He paced back and forth as he began to think about it. “It would take an entire lecture to cover everything I _do_ know about them, and even longer everything I _don’t._ Honestly, I think it’s near impossible to learn _everything_ about a dead civilization. However, I have been translating several texts, though it hasn’t been a quick process.” He didn’t mention the part where he’d been having help do it, so it had picked up dramatically.

“Oh, we know about those, I’ve got them in the corner.” Entrapta thumbed over her shoulder to stacks upon stacks of books. Lance felt his heart plummet that his collection, carefully preserved in his library, was now sitting in a dark laboratory. Well, at least it didn’t feel damp. “There were a bunch of artifacts, too, but we have those in storage.” 

And there Lance’s heart went the rest of the way. His family spent generations building and preserving that collection, and now it was in the hands of the Horde. He cleared his throat and tried to hide his rising anxiety over it. “Why did you kidnap me exactly? I know you said it was because I’m a First Ones researcher, but why exactly do you _need_ one?” he asked.

“That’s easy! Because we’re trying to use First Ones tech to build bigger and better machines, but it would be so much easier if we understood the First Ones better! You know, find out what they were using the stuff for in the first place!” Entrapta answered enthusiastically. “I can do amazing things with it while not knowing anything about them! Imagine what I can do if I actually knew what this stuff actually _does!_”

Lance nodded. That made sense. He then froze. “You’ve been using First Ones artifacts to improve your own technology _without finding out what it was and what they used it for first?!_” he all but shrieked in horror. It actually startled Entrapta so much she fell backward off of her hair. “Do you know how much history, how much _knowledge_, of the First Ones and who they were you’re losing when you do that?!” He dug his fingers into his dreadlocks, pulling in panic. All of that history that they probably already wasted to it!

“Oh… OH! AAAHHH!!!” Entrapta pulled herself up, grabbing the bars with a panicked look of her own. “You’re so right! I was so blinded by my need to find out what I _could_ do with it, I completely ignored the other side of the research! I forgot to record what it was before I used it!” She let go of the bars, grabbing onto her pigtails and pulling as well. “I’ve been a terrible scientist! How could I forget such a fundamental part of research?!”

“We have to rectify this!” Lance grabbed the bars this time, looking her in the eyes. He never felt more serious in his life. He probably looked that way from the way she stopped, staring at him in wonder. “Quickly, show me what you have! Not that you took from my library, but that _you_ have! We have to make records of all of your First Ones artifacts and find out what they are! We can see if they match anything in my research!”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Entrapta shouted, pulling out a key and unlocking the cell quickly. “Hurry, there’s no time to waste! I have _so much_ you should look at! AH! This is so exciting! My first assignment with my new research partner!”

Lance hurried out of the cell and followed her to a corner of her lab where she had boxes of unused pieces of First Ones tech. They dragged a box over to the piles of books and started looking at the first piece. They began looking through the books for any images matching what they were looking for, or text that matched what was on the artifact.

Put into his element, researching First Ones and able to talk excitedly with someone on the same level as himself about it, it completely slipped Lance’s mind where he was and why.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George goes to get help from the last person he thought he'd ever seek out.
> 
> Meanwhile, Lance is finally snapped back to the urgency of his situation.

Bright Moon wasn’t a place George thought he would ever be again. It wasn’t a place he wanted to.

Most people looked at the white-gold palace, its massive gleaming runestone before it, and thought it was a place of beauty, majesty, and wonder.

George looked at it and saw lies. A Princess Alliance that swore to protect the world from the Horde, and then fell apart after things went wrong. A Rebellion dissolved. _A village razed to the ground._

Guards stepped forward to stop him but then paused. He couldn’t see faces behind their masked helmets, but they recognized him. Surprise, uncertainty, whispers.

“Where is Queen Angella?” George demanded.

“In the command room,” one of the guards answered without hesitation. “Allow me to-”

“I know the way,” George cut her off. He didn’t mean to seem rude, the guard wasn’t at fault. She was just doing her job. But he didn’t have time for formalities. He made a quick march down the hall towards his destination, past ornate doors, and picturesque windows. Every step was another reminder of the last time he was here. Of the last words he had for the then freshly widowed Queen of Bright Moon.

Some days he regretted his heated and hasty words.

Others he remembered hers before things went wrong.

Of the guards posted outside of the command room, one seemed uncertain what to do when she saw George, armor upon his breast and sword upon his hip, coming towards them. The other, though, he could see from the little under her masked helmet showing that she was older. She knew who he was. There was no hesitation as she pushed the door open and announced, “Commander George to see you, Your Majesty.”

Whatever was being discussed within the chamber halted immediately. Its occupants turned to stare at him, some in surprise, some in curiosity.

“Dad?”

George closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Of course Bow would be there. He couldn’t even bring himself to hope when he was approaching the kingdom that he wouldn’t have to tell his son what happened. When he opened his eyes, letting the breath out slowly, he said slowly, “Hello, my son.”

Bow jumped up from his seat, running over. He stopped, his eyes traveling down to the gold and red armor George wore. “…what are you wearing?” he asked, just a little bit of amusement in his tone.

The retired soldier bit back the urge to point out that at least his midriff wasn’t showing. It was a moment of normalcy that he craved, to pretend he wasn’t here under such dire circumstances. But… no. He wouldn’t do that to Lance. He wouldn’t treat him like he was secondary.

“He’s wearing the armor bestowed upon him by my husband, as the Commanding Officer over King Micah’s forces,” Angella’s voice penetrated the silence. Her tone was impressively neutral for how conflicted over this turn of events she obviously was.

Bow stared at her a moment before looking back to his father. “Whoa… dad, you were a _Commanding Officer_? You always just told us you were a soldier!” he said, breaking into a wide smile. George’s heart clenched. Not only at the thought of Bow idolizing this part of him, this part which George fought so hard to keep buried. No, it was also because smiling like that, excitable and bright, he looked just like Lance. “That’s so cool! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

George wanted to tell him that it was because he never wanted to remember this part. That he was ashamed of who he was before he married Lance. That he just wanted to forget it and concentrate on who he was _now_. But he stared at his son, whose face began to soften and fall the more prolonged the silence stretched. Finally, he reached out and took Bow into his arms, tears starting to well up in his eyes. “They took Lance, Bow…” he said shakily. “The Horde took your father…”

“What?!” Adora shouted, filling the void where Bow’s shock left him mute. She stood up, slamming her hands on the table. “The Horde has _Lance_?!”

That seemed to snap Bow out of his stupor, who pulled his head back to look at George but didn’t push out of his hold. “When? How?!” he demanded, panic and confusion filling his eyes.

“While I was resupplying. I came home and… and he was gone. All of our First Ones artifacts, all of our research, it was all gone as well,” George explained shakily. Saying it out loud caused the pit in his stomach, in his heart, to return. Stabbing pain that he felt deserved. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there for him, I-”

“The Horde has gotten their hands on your artifacts?” Angella interrupted him, standing up. “How many? Were any of them dangerous?”

“Whoa, mom!” Glimmer stood up as well, looking at the queen in shock. George found himself surprised yet somehow unable to maintain it for long. Bow’s best friend was the daughter of Queen Angella. Fate and irony were lovers with a sense of humor. “He just said his _husband_, Bow’s _dad_ has been kidnapped! I’d think that’s way more important!”

“That _is_ more important,” Angella defended herself calmly. “However, the Horde has been using First Ones technology to improve their weapons and machines. This means that the more they have, the more dangerous they are. This is _also_ a priority.” It was apparent she was trying to show sympathy to George’s plight, especially in light of her own circumstances. The worst part was that she wasn’t wrong. The potential exploitation of First Ones tech towards the advancement of the Horde was, objectively, more urgent than the capture of one man.

George hated that there was a time when he would have agreed with her.

“If a First Ones artifact retrieval will convince you to help me get Lance back, then fine,” George said shortly, stepping towards the table. He heard his son’s footsteps close behind him. It was comforting.

“That’s so messed up…” Adora said in disbelief, running a hand over the poof of her hair. She paced a circle around her chair, obviously trying to control herself. It was a valiant effort, as George knew she was the type to not hold back.

“We can’t just call it a retrieval mission when it’s a rescue mission!” Glimmer objected. “Adora’s right, that’s so wrong!”

“It’s fine. This is how things are done when you’re at war with the Horde, isn’t it?” George said evenly, still staring at the queen across from him. To her credit, she never broke eye contact. He leaned his hands on the smooth surface. “We choose our priorities based on what we think is _best_ for our objectives, and then we deal with the consequences afterward.”

Angella’s eyes narrowed at the words. George knew he hit her where it counted. He should have felt guilty. Instead, there was a twinge of sick satisfaction in how angry she got. “Commander, you will-”

“I am _not_ a commander,” George cut her off. “Not anymore. I gave up that title. I’m not here as a soldier of any rank; I’m here as a man who needs help rescuing my husband. The only reason I’m wearing this armor and carrying this sword is that I won’t stand a chance of doing it without them. And you will never understand how much I hate that truth.”

“Commander, soldier, or citizen, you will not speak to me in such a way in my own palace. In front of my own _daughter_. What happened between us doesn’t have to involve them,” Angella said curtly. It was amazing that she could still maintain her calm. Years of bottling her pain must have taught her how to do so.

But she was right. George felt a pang of guilt finally. Not for her, but for his son and her daughter, who were the closest of friends. He already accepted Glimmer into his family, as difficult as it was at first. And she really was a delightful girl. “You’re right,” he submitted, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I’m simply…” He searched for the words.

“We know,” Bow offered, reaching out and putting a hand on his father’s shoulder. He smiled as encouragingly as he could, despite the situation. Bless that boy; he had Lance’s heart and best intentions. “It’s okay, dad.”

“Whatever’s happened, we’ll get Lance back,” Adora promised, looking determined.

“We’ve got your back,” Glimmer agreed, sitting down again. She gestured to one of the high-backed chairs across from her. “Sit down and tell us everything.”

George looked to the chair and felt anxiety well up. It had been many years since he last sat at this table, speaking to Princesses. But he had to do this. For his family.

The former soldier sat down and took a deep breath. His son sat next to him and reached out, taking George’s hand and squeezing it. George gave him a grateful, reassuring smile and looked to the two Princesses and the Queen sitting across from him. He then started from the beginning, recounting what happened that day.

======

Time passed quickly for Lance and Entrapta as they lost themselves in their research. While they mostly concentrated on pointing out what they could find of the artifacts they looked at, they also continued to ask each other questions. Entrapta was unabashedly open about her life even though they were on opposite sides of the war.

Lance learned that Entrapta was from the kingdom of Dryl, where she had lived in the mostly empty Crypto Castle. Despite her friendly demeanor, she didn’t mind being all alone because she didn’t know how to handle people. She preferred the company of robots, like Emily, but she was starting to get used to spending time around people since joining the Horde. She was a little dodgier with the details of how that happened, though. It wasn’t like with other kingdoms Lance had heard of, though, where they invaded and she surrendered. She joined of her own free will, mostly for the chance to work more closely with First Ones tech. Also, she liked tiny foods and fizzy sodas. That was fun to talk about at least.

Lance was a little more careful with his own answers, though only so much. He didn’t want to reveal anything that would endanger anyone else, so he simply talked about himself. His research, mostly. He didn’t mind that she seemed more interested in that than his personal life. She was passionate. He could relate.

“So, you’ve mentioned having a lab partner,” Lance said as he flipped through one of his books on First Ones communication. The device in his lap had a symbol on it he could have sworn he saw in there once. “Does this lab partner have a name?”

“Oh, of course, it’s Hordak,” Entrapta said as her pigtails each flipped through two different books, her eyes darting from one to the other.

Lance dropped the book he was holding, staring at her in shock. “Your lab partner is _Hordak?!_” he couldn’t help but yelp. That was certainly not what he was expecting.

“Well, yeah, he’s basically the only person in the Horde who actually knows anything substantial about this stuff,” Entrapta replied matter-of-factly. She tended to do that a lot. She spoke candidly and directly, with no actual intention of malice behind it.

“Fair enough,” Lance said shakily, picking his book back up. As soon as he did, his stomach suddenly growled. How long had they been doing this for? He just realized he hadn’t eaten lunch because he’d been waiting for George to get home.

Oh… George…

His husband was probably beside himself, worried. Lance would have to try and find a way to get a message to him that he was okay.

Another growl told him that he would have to wait, though.

“Oh, food! I knew I forgot to do something today!” Entrapta said with enthusiasm, putting the books down and standing up.

“You forget to eat when you’re researching, too?” Lance asked in amusement.

“All the time! You wouldn’t believe how often I end up stuffing my face at the end of the day because I realize I hadn’t eaten all day!” the Princess laughed. Her pigtails extended up, one removing the grate from a vent. “Hold on, I’ll get us something! Don’t go wandering off, or the Horde guards might think you’re an intruder. That’d be such a waste!” With that, Entrapta pulled herself into the vent by her pigtails, disappearing.

Lance watched her go then sighed. Oh, what had he gotten himself into? It just hit him at that moment, now that he wasn’t distracted by his research. He was sitting in a dark lab in the middle of Horde territory, chatting away with a woman who was apparently the lab partner to Hordak himself. How was he going to get out of this?

His thoughts were halted as the door slid opened. The man who stepped in was definitely not human. He didn’t look like _any_ Etherian race he’d ever seen. White skin, pointed ears, black hair. His eyes were a solid, glowing blood red. He wore black and grey armor and a long, red cape. Intimidating didn’t even start to describe him. Especially when his eyes narrowed in Lance’s direction, lips curling back to reveal ruby teeth.

“What are you doing out of your cell?! And where is Entrapta?!” the man demanded, walking towards Lance.

The librarian swallowed, feeling fear wash over him. If this wasn’t Hordak, then this man missed an excellent opportunity to be. How was he going to explain this, though? Entrapta chose a terrible time to get snacks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance escapes Entrapta's lab to try and find a way out. However, he runs unexpectedly into a Force Captain of all people.
> 
> Meanwhile, George remembers his time under King Micah's command.

Lance felt the breath completely stop in his lungs as the white-skinned man stomped towards him, menacing in every aspect of his being. His whole body trembled, fear coursing through even his veins. Hordak repeated his demand, “Where is Entrapta?!”

“G-getting something to eat…” Lance managed, backing quickly away from the commander and ruler of the Horde. He found himself stumbling, his first instinct to put a hand up to his own face to make sure his glasses stayed put. “If you wait a moment, I’m sure she’ll be back…”

Hordak didn’t look either amused or satisfied with the answer. He reached forward, and the librarian flinched as the terrifying man grabbed him by the upper arm, pulling him face to face. “I allowed her to keep you in her room under _one_ agreement: You stay in your cell! How dare you-”

“To be fair, she was the one who let me out,” Lance defended himself in a light voice.

This was obviously the wrong thing to say, as Hordak’s lips curled back into a snarl, once again showing off those strange, ruby teeth. “And I am the one who is putting you back in!” he snapped, dragging Lance to the cell. The librarian struggled to keep up, stumbling as he was pulled harshly towards it. He found himself all but tossed inside, catching himself on the cot. “You will _stay_ in this cell, and you will cause no more problems. You are here for one purpose only: To humor Entrapta’s wishes for a research partner. If I find you a detriment to my time and resources, I will personally have you shipped off to Beast Island.”

Lance felt his heart clench, shrinking into the corner of the cell to be as far away from the threat as possible. He’d done research on Beast Island. A horrible, lifeless place, filled with mysteries that simultaneously enticed explorers yet kept them away. He nodded quickly.

Hordak was obviously unimpressed, but he accepted it as he slammed the cell door shut. “I will speak to Entrapta to make sure she understands that you are _not_ to leave this cell for _any_ reason. You’re just as capable of reading inside as you are out.” He sneered one more time before turning and marching out, shutting the door to the lab behind him.

Lance finally relaxed, sinking down onto the floor, face in his hands. How could he be so stupid? He knew where he was. Who he was captive to. Yet he still let his guard down. He needed to get out of there, back to George, back to his home and his quiet, peaceful library. His calm, peaceful _life_. He’d never take it for granted as long as he lived. But now he was stuck in this cell for who knew how long, and-

A light creaking sound caught Lance’s attention. He looked up, and his eyes widened, standing. He adjusted his glasses to make sure he didn't imagine things as he approached the door to his cell. It was just barely ajar. He pushed it lightly, and sure enough, it swung open.

Lance almost laughed. Hordak, the leader of the Horde, bane of Etheria, and most feared man in the world… didn’t know the door didn’t automatically lock itself. He must only be used to high-tech prison cells.

This was no time to entertain himself with the faults of the Rebellion’s enemies. He had to take advantage of this.

Wait. Hordak had already threatened him if he caused trouble. Escaping was surely on top of the list of things that qualified.

Lance worried his bottom lip for a moment, and then put on a brave, determined face. He couldn’t let fear stand in his way this time. He needed to get out of here, back to his family. So he exited the cell and made his way to the door, pressing the button.

Hordak apparently trusted that he had secured his prisoner, as the door wasn’t locked. It slid open, and Lance almost gave a triumphant sound. He caught himself, though, remembering that there were probably Horde soldiers everywhere. If he got caught, he was in more trouble than just being put back in his cell.

Gathering his courage, though, the librarian snuck out of the room, running down the hall, trying to find some semblance of an exit at the very least from this building.

===

“Alright, Lance, I got the snacks!” Entrapta announced cheerfully as she removed the cover to the vent in her office. She dropped down out of it, replacing the cover with her hair as she held a box in both hands to keep it closed. “Alright, I’m going to have to warn you, all they have are these ration bars that honestly taste like cardboard, but I cut them up into tiny pieces, and they _almost_ feel like real food-”

The scientist stopped as she looked to where Lance had been sitting before. He was gone. Where could he have possibly gone? Bathroom, perhaps? He didn’t even know where that was. And if he left the room, then that meant…

Entrapta’s red eyes settled on the open door, feeling a growing sense of worry. Well, that was new. She didn’t usually regret anything, let alone think about the consequences often. But she realized that Lance was now loose in the Fright Zone when she’d promised Hordak she’d keep him in her office.

“Ah, phooey…” the violet-haired woman muttered, gripping the box and running out of the door. Now she just had to figure out which way he went. This might be easier if she knew the layout of the place through its halls instead of its ventilation system.

======

George found himself remaining in the command room long after the others had left. He’d told his story, argued with Angella for another thirty minutes over what their priorities were, and the queen decided to call it a night. Nevermind the fact that his husband was out there, probably frightened out of his mind, held in the Fright Zone. She needed a break.

The former commander leaned against the backside of Angella’s chair, staring at the mural of the late King of Bright Moon. “I wish you were here, Micah,” he sighed, covering his face with a hand. “You knew how to mediate with your wife.”

“I didn’t know you were on first-name-basis with dad.”

George looked up, seeing Glimmer standing there. She looked like she had more she wanted to say but was unsure if she should. George found himself smiling. It was strange to him how much she looked like her father. “Well, I _was_ his Commanding Officer. You spend a lot of time with someone when you’re planning full-scale war with them.”

Glimmer seemed to take this as a sign she could approach, still looking nervous. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew my dad?” she asked. She then cringed, seeming to realize that it sounded like an accusation. However, she obviously hadn’t meant any harm by it, so George reached out and placed a hand on her soft, fluffy pink hair.

“What are you afraid of? I told you before, Princess or not, you’re family,” the man tried to sound encouraging. Judging by the relaxing of her shoulders, he’d succeeded. It was a good step forward. “As for your question, it’s not a part of my life I like to think about. Not that I regret working under your father. Quite the opposite.” George looked back up at the mural, Glimmer’s eyes following. “Your father was an incredible man. I had nothing but respect for him. When our forces were defeated by the Horde, I was forced to sound a retreat. I watched King Micah stand up to the Horde one more time to aid in that escape. Watched him be struck down.” George closed his eyes, seeing the memory behind the blackness. The sight of the noble and great sorcerer fighting off seemingly endless soldiers. The moment his magic failed. George wanting so badly to go retrieve him, to make sure he retreated with them, but knowing that was impossible. All that would have resulted was them both dying that day.

“I’m sorry mom is being… mom,” Glimmer offered, changing the subject. George opened his eyes and looked down at her, softening at the regret on her face. “If there was a way for us to be able to save Lance, right here and now? I-”

“I know,” George said sincerely, smiling. Glimmer really was every bit her father. He pulled her in for a hug, and after a moment, her arms wrapped around him, squeezing in return. “We’re going to get him back. I know it because I won’t let anything happen to him. I’ll cut down every Horde soldier between here and him if I have to.”

“Just remember you’re not alone,” Glimmer said, pulling back and smiling finally. She put her hands on her hips and grinned, self-confidence radiating from her. “We’re all here for you, even if mom's stubborn. I won’t let you lose him either.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Lance replied. And he meant it. As much faith as he’d lost in the Princess Alliance, especially still headed by Angella, he trusted Bow and his two best friends. “We’re not getting anything else done tonight, however. Why don’t you take me to where my son is? I need to talk to him if just to make sure he’s okay right now.”

“Sure! Do you wanna walk, or…?” Glimmer asked, hopefully.

“Alright,” George chuckled, holding out a hand. “I’ve traveled by sparkle before, remember? At least this time, my life isn’t in danger.”

“Yes!” Glimmer reached out, taking his hand. They both disappeared in a puff of glitter.

======

Lance was lost. He was now utterly certain of that. Not that he expected anything else, as these hallways seemed endless. He was used to navigating his own home, why did he expect to be able to do so in a fortress? Being sneaky in one he was unfamiliar with was even harder.

Which was why when he turned a corner, the librarian wasn’t expecting to hit a solid wall. “Oof!” he wheezed as he was knocked clean to the ground.

“Oh my gosh, I am _so_ sorry!”

Lance froze when the wall talked. He adjusted his glasses and looked up. And up. And up. He was looking at the tallest woman he’d ever met. She had impressive musculature, dark eyes, and short, white hair. However, the most noticeable things about her were the scorpion claws and tail, each as red as her Horde uniform. Despite her intimidating features, though, the woman looked absolutely beside herself with guilt. “I totally didn’t see you, are you okay?” she asked, kneeling down.

“I… um… yes, I’m fine,” Lance said, unable to stop himself from sounding nervous.

The woman picked up on this, looking over him to make sure he really was fine. She then smiled. “It’s the tail, isn’t it? That makes everyone nervous. I promise, it’s a perfectly non-lethal toxin, though. If I accidentally get you, you’ll just get a little paralyzed for a while.” She held out a claw.

Lance looked at her, then the claw, then back. After a moment, he put his hand carefully on it, making sure not to cut himself. The woman stood up, helping him to his feet. “Thank you, uh…” he trailed off, hoping she picked up on the cue.

“Oh! Sorry, I’m Scorpia,” the woman replied. She then added proudly, “Force Captain Scorpia. I haven’t seen you around here before, though. You must be new.”

“Yes, very,” Lance replied, trying to come off as casual. He didn’t know if he was succeeding, but Scorpia didn’t seem to notice. Well, at least she was incredibly nice. And not crazy-nice like Entrapta seemed when they first met. “I’m… the Horde’s new researcher. Lance. It’s nice to meet you, Scorpia.”

“A researcher, huh? What do you research? Is it a secret? I’m really good at keeping secrets,” Scorpia whispered the last part, looking around the hall and leaning down. She put a claw next to her face as if blocking the exactly zero people other than them in the hallway from reading her lips. “Are you helping Entrapta and Hordak with their super-secret project?”

“No, I don’t know anything about that,” Lance said honestly. He decided if he tried to be as truthful as possible while not telling the _whole_ truth, he might get through this without being dragged back to Hordak.

“Oh, well, forget I said anything, then,” Scorpia grinned, leaning back again. “So, what are you doing wandering around like this? And… uh-oh.” Scorpia looked him over, and Lance’s breath caught, figuring she finally figured out something wasn’t right. And he was correct in that assumption. “Wait a minute. You don’t have a Horde badge.” She narrowed her eyes a moment, then whispered again, “Did you drop yours?”

“Yes!” Okay, that one was a complete lie. But Lance was desperate to keep her from figuring out that he didn’t belong. “I lost it right after… orientation?” Wow, that sounded dumb, even to himself. There was no way she bought that.

Scorpia stared at him before surprising him by saying, “Me too! You know, those first badges that they give you are so easy to lose. Mine came off at least four times a day. I think they need to fix the pins on them or something.” She turned around, waving him after her. “Come on! I don’t want you getting in trouble on your first day! I have an extra one in my room, you’re welcome to it if you want.”

“I… yes, thank you!” Lance answered, following quickly. Well, this was fortuitous. With a Horde badge, he hopefully wouldn’t have to try and be quite as sneaky. And besides, Scorpia seemed like a pleasant woman. As guilty as it made him feel to trick her, being as she was so helpful and kind so far, maybe he could get her to tell him how to get out of this place.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Bow sit for a while.
> 
> Meanwhile, Lance hears Scorpia out about her problems.

Glimmer poofed them up onto the roof of the palace. That had only surprised George a bit, as they’d been learning in recent weeks that Bow was much braver than they’d ever thought. This was still very dangerous, though. It was a long way down.

“What in the world are you doing all the way up here?” George asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bow looked up from his tracker pad with surprise. He opened his mouth but then looked behind his father, where Glimmer was waving at him. “Oh,” he settled for. He looked back to George and said, “I’ve been trying to get Entrapta to answer. She’s our only real contact in the Fright Zone, even if she’s technically still an enemy.”

“Technically?” Glimmer raised an eyebrow. “She defected.”

“Yeah, well…” Bow didn’t seem to have an answer to that. He just looked back at the pad. “I thought… maybe if I can talk to her, she could help. If she understood the situation…”

George walked over to the edge, where Bow sat, settling down next to him. “We’re going to figure this out, Bow,” he said, reaching over and putting a hand on his son’s head. When Bow looked up at him, George gave him the bravest smile he could. He knew not knowing what was happening to Lance was killing him just as much.

Bow smiled in return. “Yeah.”

Behind them, Glimmer made an awkward noise. “I’m… gonna check on Adora. Knowing her, she’s planning on running off to save him herself or something.” She disappeared in a cloud of glitter.

George looked back at the settling sparkles, then back at his son. “Do you ever actually get used to that?” he joked. “Even doing it on purpose, traveling through it felt like walking through cotton candy.”

Bow chuckled. “I know, it’s weird, right? We’ve done it so much, though, that it’s just part of living with her.”

George made a thoughtful sound at that. “Living with her…” he muttered. That was right. He’d barely even thought of the fact that this was where Bow lived when he wasn’t at home. For years they thought he was at school, but it turned out he was living in Bright Moon Castle with its royal family. Practically as a member of them.

It made him wonder… did Queen Angella know Bow was his son? Did she still treat him like family, even knowing that? Did Angella still carry the same grudge that George did after their last argument? The words were so heated, so angry and hateful. He would be surprised if she didn’t at least still hold him in contempt for the things he said.

_ “You were his Commanding Officer, and you were supposed to protect him!” _

_ “At least I didn’t send my own husband to die!” _

The silence that had followed was louder than any words that could have been spoken. That was when, while she was in her stunned state, George had renounced himself of his position and left, never to return. He still didn’t regret saying it. Maybe that was cruel. She was freshly widowed and grieving. But he had only told the truth. If she’d listened to them before that fateful battle, then Micah would still be alive. She had no one to blame but herself.

“Dad?” Bow’s voice cut through George’s thoughts. The former soldier blinked and looked down at him. Judging by his face, that wasn’t the first time Bow had tried to speak to him.

“What?” George asked dumbly, feeling embarrassed that he’d zoned out like that.

Bow watched him a moment longer, then smiled. “You know, it’s usually Lance you have to yell at five times before he’ll even realize you’re talking to him,” he joked.

George laughed in spite of himself. “That’s what happens when you’re married to someone for long enough. They rub off on you.”

“Remember the time Erika broke that antique First Ones vase, and Lance didn’t even notice for like… three months?” Bow asked, leaning against his father.

“Only because she hid the pieces in _another _vase,” George chuckled. “Forget broken; Lance didn’t notice it was _missing _for that long.”

“I was surprised. He’s so protective of everything in the collection,” Bow said, looking at the night sky. “And he wasn’t even mad. He was more concerned about making sure she didn’t cut herself while hiding it.”

“Well, to be fair, that wasn’t the first time that vase was broken,” George admitted.

“Really?” Bow asked, looking at him in surprise. “How’d it break before?”

“It’s a long story. Maybe we’ll tell you when this is over,” George promised, ruffling Bow’s hair. Honestly, he would rather not, though. It wasn’t a story he was proud of. It was so long ago, only a few weeks after he’d met Lance. He was a different person then. An angry person.

“We should head to bed, then,” Bow offered, standing and stretching. “We’ll need to get up early tomorrow to start planning what we’re going to do to get him back.”

“Agreed,” George nodded, pushing himself up to his feet as well. He then paused. “How exactly do you get down from here?”

Bow laughed, waving for him to follow. “Come on; I’ll show you. Don’t worry; it’s not as hard as it looks. Even for someone as old as you,” he teased.

“Hey, now. Watch that tone, I’m still your father,” George laughed.

=====

“Here we are! Sorry for the mess, I’ve been _ super _ busy lately.”

Lance followed Scorpia into her room, looking around. It actually wasn’t too bad. From how she’d said it, he expected something akin to some of his children’s rooms growing up. Clothes strewn everywhere, hobbies all over the floor. Having thirteen of them, many shared rooms, and it always seemed like a battle trying to get the messier ones to clean up after themselves. Three children who didn’t seem to understand the idea of dusting in one room was a nightmare he’d live through.

Scorpia’s room, though, was pretty neat. The bed was made, there were only a few odd things tucked away against the walls, and maybe a uniform shirt or two tucked under her bed. “It’s fine,” he assured her. “Not messy at all.”

“Ah, you’re just saying that, but thanks,” Scorpia waved a claw humbly. “Give me a second. I’ll see if I can find that badge.” She knelt next to the bed and reached under, pulling out a box.

While the Force Captain rummaged through her items, Lance found himself drawn to a shelf on the wall. It contained a few things on it. Red crystals, an old stuffed animal - a scorpion, unsurprisingly - and a photo. Two women, one with black hair and one with white, were holding a baby and smiling. Like Scorpia, they both had claws and tails. “Is this you?” Lance inquired, suspecting so but wanting to be sure.

“Hmm?” Scorpia looked over her shoulder, then smiled again. “Oh, yeah, that’s my moms and me. Wasn’t I a cutie?” she asked, returning to her search.

“Are they Horde soldiers as well?” Lance asked. The one in white didn’t look like a fighter to him, but then neither did Glimmer.

“No. I mean, they were. Kind of,” Scorpia answered, giving up on the current box and reaching down for another one. “They died in battle during the First Princess Rebellion. Held off an entire squadron of Princesses and their troops, according to the older officers. It’s a lot to live up to, you know?”

Lance’s heart sank, hearing the words. “How old were you?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Pretty young,” Scorpia shrugged. “I don’t remember exactly. It feels like forever ago, you know? I was a kid then, though. Aha!” She pulled out a little green badge, turning and holding it out to Lance. “Just put it on, and no one will know you lost yours. Well, no one but me, but I won’t tell anyone.” She smiled brightly.

Lance took it, watching the cheerful woman. She talked so proudly of her mothers, but it was hard to believe it didn’t affect her. He’d only been 15 when his parents left the Library and never returned. That experience had fed into his fear of the outside world. It was one of the things that made him who he was now, for better or worst. And his children… they were all adopted war orphans. They were all so young when they’d lost their parents to the war, too. Most of them were scared, sad, and traumatized for the longest time by it.

Bow was probably the only one who was mostly unaffected psychologically by being an orphan. He’d been barely into his toddler phase when they took him in. He didn’t even remember his biological parents. To him, Lance and George _were _the only parents he’d ever had.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” the librarian said, working the pin so it was attached to his robe.

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Scorpia said sincerely. “Even though it was so long ago, I do still miss them.” She sat down on the bed, pushing the boxes to the side to make room. “Sometimes I feel a little guilty. I at least remember my parents. A lot of the orphan recruits, they don’t even have that. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my moms to think about when I’m feeling lost. I just ask myself what they would be proud of, and then I do it.”

Lance smiled, walking over and sitting beside her. He could just excuse himself, but… no. She was so kind, and she seemed like she needed someone to listen to her right now. “It sounds like they did their best, as little time as you had with them. Do you think they’d be proud of you right now?”

“I think… yeah,” Scorpia smiled. “I think they’d want me to keep going this way. Sometimes it just feels like if I keep moving forward, then everything will work out, you know?”

“I do,” Lance finally answered the thrice-asked rhetorical question. “I’m following in my parents’ footsteps, too. I sometimes wonder if they’d be proud of where it’s gone as well. It’s hard, I know. When they’re not there to tell you that you’re doing a good job.”

“Hey, you’re happy, right?” Scorpia asked, leaning down, so her head was tilted to the side but now eye-level with Lance’s.

Lance stared at her a moment, then smiled in return. “Yeah, I am.”

“That’s all they’d want, then,” the Force Captain assured him.

“What about you? Are you happy?” Lance felt compelled to ask. She seemed like she was, but there was something in the back of it. He wanted to help.

“Me? Yeah, sure, of course I am!” Scorpia answered cheerfully. It was at least a little forced, though, and she seemed to realize that as he raised an eyebrow at her. “No, really, I am. Just… sometimes…” She trailed off, looking thoughtful. “You know when you feel like someone else not being happy makes _ you _ kind of a little unhappy, and you just want to do whatever you can to make it better?”

Lance looked at the floor, nodding. He knew that feeling well. He could still think back all the way to when he and George first met. How angry and miserable George had been. How much he’d wanted to take all of that and pull it out of the retired soldier, cast it somewhere no one would ever find. If only life was so easy.

“I’m kind of going through that right now. There’s… look, don’t tell anyone this, but there’s this other officer, Catra. We’re best friends, like… the closest two people could possibly be,” Scorpia continued. She waved a claw as she spoke as if trying to emphasize something she couldn’t wholly pinpoint. “Well… Catra is just so stressed and unhappy all of the time lately, and it makes me really worried because… I mean, what if something happens and she gets so worked up that she does something that gets her hurt? As much as I always want to be there to make sure it doesn’t happen, well…” Her face fell, and she leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. Her scorpion claws rested against each other, and she stared at them. “The truth is… she’s been kind of… pushing me away lately. I’ve tried everything, but she won’t let me back in, and I’m worried that… that this is it.”

Lance almost marveled at how similar this was to his situation with George back when the soldier had collapsed in front of his Library. The insistence on helping, the pushing away, the anger, the worry. He thought about how to say it, then smiled. He put a hand on the claw on his side. “Hey. You’re not giving up on her, are you?” he asked gently.

“What? No! Of course not!” Scorpia said in shock. “I would _ never _-!”

“Then you’re already doing what you can. I learned this from experience,” Lance assured her, patting the claw. “As much as you want to, you can’t make it go away. There has to be an effort on her part as well. If she’s not willing to work to make herself better, then there’s nothing you can do except be there.”

Scorpia stared at him a moment, then pursed her lips. She looked ahead of herself, obviously trying to force tears back. “It’s hard,” she finally choked out.

“I know. But I can tell you’re strong enough to hold you both up until she gets there,” the librarian said soothingly, moving his hand to her shoulder.

Scorpia sat a few seconds longer, obviously brewing over what he was saying in her head. She then surprised Lance by suddenly turning and grabbing him in both arms, squeezing him tightly to herself. He made a startled sound but then relaxed when her face buried into his shoulder. He chuckled, patting her short-cut hair with one hand, laying the other over her arched back (as far as she needed to bend over to hold him). Scorpia sniffled, managing, “Sorry… I’m a hugger…”

Lance smiled and said reassuringly, “That’s alright. So am I.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance resumes his search for an escape, but runs into his next bit of trouble: The Horde's most exhausted soldier.

Lance had spent a bit more time with Scorpia, learning about her experiences growing up with the Horde, fascinated by the unique perspective. As was to be expected for someone who was raised within the empire, she truly felt she was on the right side of the war. She didn’t speak with the absolute conviction of someone who was all but brainwashed, but rather as someone in which this was all she ever knew. She even seemed to carry a sense of self-awareness that the Horde was a force of evil. Well, not in those words exactly.

“Yeah, it’s _extreme_, but… I mean, isn’t that what change always is? It’s something that you almost always have to drag people into, we just do it a little more literally,” Scorpia had said, as equally apologetic as she was convinced that it was the right way to do it.

However, the visit had to end eventually, as Lance still needed to find his way out of this place. Scorpia herself presented the opportunity to escape the conversation as she checked the time. They’d been talking for over an hour by that point, and she realized it was late. She had a strict sleep schedule to keep herself at her best when awake, so Lance left her to that.

Lance didn’t realize it was so late himself, as he was used to keeping odd hours of the day and night. George often joked that Lance would make a fascinating study piece himself, as his sleep habits were unmatched in oddity on Etheria. He could sleep anywhere and at any time, and in exchange, he could keep himself awake for days on end if absolutely necessary. Thus, the librarian didn’t even feel drowsy as he made his way through the labyrinthine halls of the Horde’s base of operations.

George, on the other hand, kept himself on a schedule as strict as it was while in the Rebellion. Early to bed and early to rise. A military man never ceased being one just because he left the service.

Oh, George… Lance was so worried about him. Was he even able to sleep right now? Probably not. Etheria, Lance had to get out of here – if only just to put George’s fears to rest. If he could make it to the Whispering Woods, then Lance could find his way to the Library easily. After all, the only requirement to find anything inside the ever-changing woods was knowing what you were looking for.

Wait… could Lance even find his way to the Whispering Woods from the Fright Zone? He knew nothing about which direction he’d have to go. Hmm… this was going to take more planning than he thought.

As Lance turned a corner, he stopped abruptly as he realized he almost smacked right into someone again. He had to stop being distracted while walking around this place, or he was going to get himself into trouble.

“Whoa!” the young man he almost ran into all but jumped back. “Sorry, I... wait…”

Lance stared at the sandy-blond-haired boy, with his wide, brown eyes and tired bags under them. Why did he look so…?

“AAAAHH!” Lance and the boy pointed at each other, shouting in surprise at the same time. “YOU!”

“What are you doing out here?! You can’t be out of your cell!” the young man said in a panic, digging his fingers into his hair and looking around quickly.

“Sssshh!” Lance hissed pleadingly. He started doing so as well. He couldn’t get caught now, not when he had _just_ been handed a way to walk around without getting caught.

The young blond suddenly grabbed Lance by the arm and, with a strength that was surprising for someone so much smaller, he all but dragged the librarian to a nearby door. He punched the button to open it, pulling Lance into the room and then closing the door again.

Lance thought it was a security room of some sort, but… no, it was a supply closet. One of cleaning supplies by the looks of it. He was confused, why wasn’t this kid calling for the guards? Dragging him to get thrown back into an actual cell? Doing _something_ to get Lance back into his captivity? Instead, the kid looked as utterly terrified of Lance getting caught as the prisoner himself was.

The boy paced back and forth in the small space, still pulling on his hair in distress. “This can’t be happening, nonono, you _can’t_ be out of your cell… come on, this is so unfair!” he said, seeming to simply voice his stream of consciousness in his panic.

“Uh… are you alright?” Lance asked in confusion. Shouldn’t _he_ be the one hyperventilating over getting caught right now?

“No, I’m not okay!” the boy shouted, throwing his hands in the air. He then threw his hands over his mouth, looking to the door. Time stretched in silence, seconds ticking into minutes as he seemed to be waiting for someone to burst through the door with an ‘AHA!’ When no such thing happened, he sighed, turning back to Lance and grabbing him by the front of his robe. He pulled the much taller man down, so they were face-to-face. “You don’t understand!” he said in a loud whisper this time. “If they catch you out of your cell, then they’ll blame _me! Especially_ since I was the one to find you!”

“I… why would they blame _you_?” Lance asked in confusion. The absurdity of how this entire situation had turned completely sucked the fear out of him.

“Because they blame me for _everything!_” the boy whined. “Something goes wrong? It’s Kyle’s fault! Weapons malfunctioned? Kyle was the last person to maintain them! Ration bars go missing? Kyle probably messed up the inventory! A prisoner escaping is going to get pinned on me easily, it doesn’t matter how it really happened!” His voice raised the more he became more hysterical.

“Okay, okay,” Lance said, shushing him quickly. He reached up and took the hand holding his robe, gently pulling it off of himself. He needed to calm this kid down quickly. Luckily, one of the advantages of being a bundle of extreme emotions and passing that on to a good chunk of his children meant he was quite used to dealing with it. “Breathe, Kyle,” he said softly. When he was given a disbelieving look in return, the librarian smiled. “Trust me, just do as I say. Breathe in, deep breath.”

Kyle looked ready to argue, but instead closed his eyes and drew in a breath, chest expanding.

“Okay, good. Now let it back out,” Lance instructed. He watched Kyle let the breath out far too quickly and smiled. Kids were always in a hurry for everything. “Okay, one more time, this time slowly. Deep breath in,” he continued. When Kyle did so, taking his time with it this time, Lance continued, “And back out, no hurry.”

Kyle let the breath out, body visibly relaxing as he did. When he was done, he opened his eyes again. He looked completely surprised at himself.

“Feel better?” Lance asked, still smiling.

“I… yeah,” Kyle replied, blinking at him. “How’d you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything, just instructed you,” the librarian chuckled. He released Kyle’s hand and straightened up. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of hyperventilating teenagers. If there’s anything I can handle, it’s that. Now that you’re calm, can we talk? You were the boy who knocked me out and stole me from my home, weren’t you?”

Kyle pursed his lips together, and to his credit, he did look guilty. “I mean… I didn’t knock you out, that was Rogelio. But I was the one at the door, yeah,” he said, putting his hands together in front of himself and looking at the floor. “I was just following orders.”

“I know,” Lance replied, tilting his head. “I’m not angry, I promise. I’m not _happy_ about it, but I don’t blame you. I have a feeling you don’t get many choices here in the Horde.”

Kyle shook his head, looking back up at Lance. He did look somewhat relieved, at least. His eyes were drawn to the badge on Lance’s robe, and his eyes widened. “Wait, why do you have a badge?” he asked in shock.

“Oh, uh… long story,” Lance said, scratching the back of his neck. “But I figure as long as I’m wearing it, whoever was with you at the Library, Entrapta, and Hordak are the only ones who will know I don’t belong. It’s kind of important to sneaking around this place.”

“I… guess that makes sense,” Kyle said, though he still looked like he had a million questions. Lance didn’t blame him. “You’re… weirdly calm for someone trying to escape being held prisoner in the middle of enemy territory. Are you some kind of… I dunno, Rebellion captain or something?”

Lance actually laughed at that. Obviously, the soldiers who were sent to kidnap him weren’t privy to the reason why. “No, not even close. I’m just a librarian and a researcher,” he assured the boy. “Honestly, I’m surprised I’m not panicking as well. It’s probably because I’m so focused on why I need to get out of here. I don’t have time to overthink my situation right now.”

“You need to get back to your family, right?” Kyle asked lightly. When Lance looked at him in surprise, he looked at the ground again. “I saw your pictures while we were ransacking your Library. You’re Bow’s dad, right?”

“You know Bow?” Lance asked, once again caught off-guard.

“Kind of,” Kyle shrugged. “He was a prisoner here once, too—I… kind of made friends with him during it. At least, I thought I did. I dunno, he escaped pretty soon after he said we could be. Sometimes I wonder if he was lying to me.” He said the last part with such melancholy that it broke Lance’s heart. This boy was obviously starved for any kind of affection he could get.

“He wouldn’t do that,” Lance said honestly. Even though he found out Bow was far braver than they thought recently, that didn’t change how sure he was that his son was still a good person. Honest, friendly, and accepting. He’d never lead someone so obviously vulnerable on like that. “I’m sure if you met again, he’d remember you.”

“I guess…” Kyle said, rubbing his arm with a hand self-consciously. He went quiet as he looked thoughtful, and Lance didn’t interrupt him. He knew the importance of having time to think. Finally, Kyle looked back up. He had a determined stare. “We need to get you out of here, don’t we?”

Lance blinked, not expecting that. “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” he objected.

“Weren’t you listening?” Kyle asked, finally smiling. It was a wry one, far too cynical for his youth. “I’m already blamed for everything. What’s one thing that was actually my fault?”

The older man was honestly flattered by the fact that Kyle was willing to help him even at risk to himself. So far, other than Hordak, all of the people he’d met in the Horde were good people. “Well… any help you can give me will be appreciated,” he admitted. “What do you have in mind?”

“I can’t do it on my own,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “We’re going to need help.”

“You sound like you have someone in mind,” Lance pointed out.

Kyle grinned, this one sincere. It suited him quite a bit more, lighting up his face with his youthfulness. “He’s the only person I know I can trust unconditionally in Etheria.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George remembers as he sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter deals with George's PTSD. It also contains some dark imagery.

George didn’t dream in fantasy. He hadn’t even done that when he was a kid. No, he only dreamt of memories.

It was at its worst after the Rebellion failed. Back then, his sleep was plagued with flashbacks to battlefields and blood. Years of sleeping next to someone who made him feel comforted had calmed those, though, and his dreams usually turned to good memories—ones of cozy days spent with family inside of their nice, safe sanctuary.

The former soldier would give anything for those calming dreams that night. But no, his conversation with Bow and invasive worry over Lance had turned the dreams to those early days in the Library. When he was angry and resistant to the kindness shown to him by a softly smiling librarian.

George found himself over a decade younger, impatiently pacing circles across the bottom floor of the Library. He was agitated for no specific reason other than feeling caged.

Perhaps that was ridiculous. He knew he wasn’t locked inside of the Library. He felt like it, though. He didn’t ask to be dragged into this place, to be nursed back to health. But the man who ran this place didn’t seem to care what he thought. What he wanted. That George would’ve preferred to just die out in the Whispering Woods like he’d planned before he collapsed in front of this accursed Library.

The worst part was being surrounded by all of the artifacts here. They were all First Ones. All covered in the Princesses of old. Reminders of what he’d just left behind. Reminders of those responsible for the loss of everything he loved.

“Sorry for the wait!”

And there he was. Lance, the man who ran the Library. He was a young man, 19-years-old. Only a few years younger than George, though he had an air about him that made him seem even more so. Or maybe that was just the fact that George felt so much older than he really was after everything he’d gone through. Either way, Lance was the bundle of cheerful energy that George found himself nothing but annoyed by.

The young librarian was carrying a tray with a teapot, two cups, and a plate of cookies. “I’m so sorry for the wait. I don’t usually receive deliveries that can feed two people, so I’ve had to dig around to find these. I knew I had some more cookies somewhere in the back of the pantry. I tried one, they don’t taste stale, so we should be fine. I’m so glad you like your tea straight, though, because we’re officially out of sugar,” Lance prattled on as he put the tray on the coffee table, turning the cups right-side up. He didn’t stop talking even while he poured. In the two weeks, George had been there, the soldier had become convinced that Lance didn’t need to breathe when he spoke. “That’s alright, the next delivery arrives tomorrow. I’ll tell Juno I’ll pay her extra if she brings double the supplies while you’re here.”

“Don’t bother, I don’t plan on staying much longer,” George replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He felt his shoulder object, but he ignored it. If he showed any signs of pain, Lance would be all over him again. He didn’t need any of this.

“Oh, but you shouldn’t leave too soon,” Lance said, stopping and looking up in alarm. “Most of your wounds only just healed up. Do you even know where you’re going to go? If you don’t, you’ll just end up wandering circles around the Whispering Woods anyway.”

“Anywhere but here,” George snapped. It wasn’t the first time he said something like that to Lance. Maybe he should’ve felt bad, but all he did feel was fed up with this place. Besides, no matter what he said, Lance never got angry or upset. Honestly, that only made George even more hostile. He wanted to get a rise out of the librarian, but nothing seemed to faze him.

“Oh, that’s not going to get you out of there,” Lance pointed out, putting the teapot down. “If you don’t know a specific place-”

“I won’t be able to find my way out, I know,” George cut him off irritably. “Why do you even care?” He asked the same question every day for two weeks. He didn’t know why he bothered, he got the same answer every time.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

George scoffed, turning away and running a hand through his hair as he looked anywhere but at the obnoxious librarian. The right thing to do. What did that even mean anymore? What was the point when ‘doing the right thing’ ended with nothing but everyone you ever loved and respected dead?

“Come on and drink some tea. You’ll feel better,” Lance called cheerfully. “From what I’ve read, this kind specifically is good for lifting spirits. It releases the endorphins in your brain, scientifically proven.”

_Read_ about it. Lance seemed to have read about everything. He knew so much but experienced nothing. Had never even left this Library and its territory, according to him. It was strangely the thing that kept George there. Because he wasn’t sure that if he left, so concerned as Lance was with him, that the librarian wouldn’t try to follow him. And someone so soft and sheltered would very likely fall to one pitfall or another of the Whispering Woods.

“The only thing that will make me feel better is…” George turned around and trailed off. Lance wasn’t there. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how this memory went. He was supposed to say, ‘The only thing that will make me feel better is if you left me alone.’

And then Lance would just smile again and reply with, ‘That’s not scientifically proven, though.’

And that was when George would feel that first twinge of affection. Sure, it would be another week before the incident with the vase. The moment when he would turn around and start treating Lance with the kindness he deserved. But this moment he was in right now, it was so important.

“Lance?” George called. All at once, he wasn’t that angry young soldier. He was George the husband. George the father. George the historian. He was the George whose husband was missing.

The Library was in the ransacked shambles it was when he’d come home to find Lance missing. What books and artifacts hadn’t been stolen were strewn across the floor, abandoned. Torn, broken, defiled. Their entire home defiled by the fact that it was no longer the sanctuary they had made it. George looked around hurriedly, panic starting to well up from his stomach and up to his throat.

“One more person you couldn’t save, huh, George?”

George’s heart hit his throat at the sound of that voice. He spun around quickly, coming face-to-face with King Micah. He wanted to say this was impossible, that Micah was dead. He found he couldn’t speak, though. No matter how hard he tried, not a sound would rise past his throat.

“How many are going to die under your care before you learn?” Micah asked, voice uncharacteristically emotionless. He stepped to the side and beyond the door to the Library behind him wasn’t the Whispering Woods. It was a village, destroyed, burned out, empty.

George couldn’t stop himself from walking forward through the door, staring at the devastation around him. The home he had before he ended up in the Library. Gone, devastated.

“When will you learn, George?” Micah repeated as he decayed before George’s eyes.

“When will you learn?” voices started to ask, one after another. He tore his eyes away from his former king, watching in horror as people began to appear around him. His friends, his family from the village, the people he once loved. All dead, all decaying. All repeating, “When will you learn?”

“No… no, it’s not… I didn’t…” George tried to back away from them, but they surrounded him, chanting the four words. There was no unity to it, though, it was a jumble of people asking the question over and over again. Cacophonous, growing louder and more chaotic in it as they crowded in around him. He put his hands over his ears, shutting his eyes, but the sound simply penetrated through his hands.

“George…”

The former soldier gasped as Lance’s voice pierced through, striking him in the heart. He opened his eyes, turning quickly towards the sound. “Lance!”

The Lance standing before him was as rotted and dead as the rest of them, reaching for him with his skeletal hands. “George…” he echoed hauntingly, eyes lifeless behind broken glasses. “When will you learn?”

()()()

George shot up awake, screaming. His heart pounded against his chest so hard he thought it was going to break free of his ribcage. He felt the clammy sweat covering his body as he gasped for air. His body trembled like an earthquake as that last image clung to the forefront of his mind.

No… no, that wasn’t real… he had to keep repeating to himself that it wasn’t real.

Lance wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. The Horde wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of stealing everything they had and kidnapping him if they were going to kill him. He was fine. He had to be. George would make sure he was going to be.

That hadn’t been normal. He’d never had a dream where his memories were interrupted like that before. Was it the stress of his worry that made his mind stray from its norm? He wasn’t a psychologist, so he couldn’t say. He was sure Lance would have had a million theories based on his lifetime of reading. Sure, psychology wasn’t his specialty either. George and Lance were both historians by profession. Lance by nature, and George through osmosis.

But growing up in the Library with no one but his books to keep him company made Lance at least somewhat knowledgeable about what felt like everything. One of the many, many things George loved about him. Someone could ask about any subject – any at all, no matter how obscure – and Lance would have at least three or four facts somewhere in the back of his mind.

George could never absorb information like that. If you wanted a list of all of the technological marvels the First Ones left to Etheria, in chronological order no less, then George was your man. He was great with those kinds of things. Asking questions and finding the answers through hard research of the subject in question. It was how he caught up to Lance in his aptitude as a First Ones historian. However, he compartmentalized information as ‘important’ and ‘unimportant’ when this happened. So anything unrelated to the question was filed somewhere else as something he didn’t need to know at that moment.

Lance instead had all of the attention span of a magpie when he researched. He was indeed the smartest man George had ever met, but he struggled with focus when he didn’t have someone to reel him in. He could start out researching the meaning behind a word he found written on some pottery, and within an hour, he’ll have migrated somewhere over in the books about ancient transportation. How did he go from agriculture to transportation? He wouldn’t be able to tell you, but he could now tell you how they harnessed magic to achieve faster travel.

That was what George became for Lance when they researched. He was the anchor for Lance’s scattered thoughts to make sure they didn’t drift off in an aimless direction. Because as much as he loved Lance’s absurd range of knowledge, it wasn’t always helpful when they had a goal in mind.

Thinking of all of this – of the things about Lance that stabilized George’s anger and balanced his trauma-rattled brain – helped George calm down again. His heartbeat settled, and he found himself able to think straight enough to untangle himself from his bedding. The room was dark, lit only by moonlight. Sunrise was still hours away. Still… he couldn’t go back to sleep now. His brain was too addled by his worries. Just looking at the sweat-soaked bedsheets he’d managed to free himself from was enough to make him reluctant to try.

The former soldier looked around his room, spotting his clothes and sword. If he was going to rescue his husband, he needed to shake off the rust from his swordsmanship.

So George walked over, changing back into his clothes and grabbing the sword he’d been forced to use once more. He headed out of the guest room and down the stairs, towards the training yards behind the palace. If nothing else, this would at least help burn off his frustration and distract him from his worry.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Kyle seek help from the only person Kyle trusts.

Walking casually through the Fright Zone with someone who actually _knew_ he didn’t belong was a lot more unnerving than doing so on his own. Lance kept looking over his shoulder, expecting someone to jump out and blow his cover. Honestly, with his luck that day, he wouldn’t doubt it could happen.

“Stop that,” Kyle hissed, reaching up and pushing Lance along as the librarian stopped for what felt like the hundredth time. “You stick out more if you _act_ like you’re doing something you’re not supposed to.”

“Sorry, I don’t exactly spend many days sneaking around Horde bases,” Lance murmured back, though he did as was asked and kept walking. “Are we far?”

“No, he’s got inventory duty tonight before bed,” Kyle replied. “It’s just a few doors down.”

“Speaking of bed, you look exhausted. Did I catch you heading to it?” Lance asked, looking at the bags under the boy’s eyes again. Honestly, the idea of it made him feel guilty. This kid looked like he needed all of the sleep he could get.

“No, it’s fine,” Kyle said, shaking his head. He looked up at Lance. “Catra’s been assigning me triple shifts lately. There’s so much to get done, and I’m the only person who won’t argue with her.”

“Why not?” Lance asked sincerely. “If you’re sacrificing your sleep for it, then she needs to give you some time to yourself.”

“I mean… she’s basically Hordak’s second in command. If you can’t argue with him, then she’s out of the question as well. And… would _you_ argue with Hordak?” Kyle looked nervous just saying the words, swallowing.

Lance thought to the one encounter he’d had with the Horde leader. Hordak had been so frightening, so powerful. He shook his head slowly. “No, I see your point,” he relented.

Kyle stopped outside of one of the doors, looking down one corridor and then the other. He then entered the code to open the door, waiting for it to slide open. When it did, he went in quickly, motioning for Lance to follow. The librarian did so, Kyle shutting the door behind them.

The room they were in was huge. It was full of crates upon crates, stacked upon shelves, and one another. Honestly, it didn’t look completely safe. Then again, this was the Fright Zone. There probably wasn’t _much_ safe there. Kyle moved through the room quickly and with certainty, though. He seemed perfectly at home within the mountains of… whatever was contained inside those crates. Lance followed as they moved towards the sound of pen on paper, scrawling quickly. When they cleared the next shelving unit, Lance stopped and stared.

There was a lizardman standing there, writing on a clipboard of papers. He was large, green, and muscular, tail lazily swishing back and forth as he concentrated on what he was doing.

“Rogelio!” Kyle called, bounding over to the lizardman.

The Reptilian – Rogelio – looked up at the sound, stopping his writing. He opened his mouth to say something but then noticed Lance as he followed behind cautiously. Rogelio grabbed Kyle, shoving the boy behind himself, letting out a low warning growl.

Lance halted as soon as the sound left the lizardman’s mouth. He held up his hands in a gesture of peace, not really knowing what else to do. If this was the person Kyle brought him to because he trusted him, then Lance needed to win him over fast. The defensive stance that Rogelio had as he raised one of his hands, talons bared, said that he wasn’t making a great first impression.

“Whoa, whoa! Ro, it’s fine!” Kyle said quickly, reaching up and grabbing the arm with both hands. He pulled Rogelio’s arm down, surprisingly getting no resistance to the action. When Rogelio looked down at him, Kyle smiled reassuringly. “He’s with me.”

Rogelio looked at him in surprise, then back at Lance. When he looked back to Kyle, he made a series of grunting growls, pointing at the librarian. Lance was fascinated. He was speaking lizard tongue. Lance had never met a Lizardfolk before, hadn’t heard the language firsthand. Reptilians didn’t have a written language, so he couldn’t exactly get an approximation of it. He concentrated, though, trying to find a pattern. One of the advantages of learning First Ones was having to learn linguistics at least at a fundamental level.

When Rogelio was done, Kyle scratched the back of his neck self-consciously. “I know he’s a prisoner and I’m gonna get in trouble. But… he needs our help, Ro.”

Lance actually felt flattered by how sincerely Kyle said that. He was obviously certain by this point that this was the right thing to do. To him, Lance wasn’t just a stranger; he was an enemy prisoner. Yet he was so ready to help him out.

Rogelio was taken aback by the sound of Kyle’s voice as well, putting his free hand on his head and sighing. He was obviously considering all of his options, looking at Lance again questioningly. Lance just smiled back, unsure if his input into the conversation would mean anything to him.

“Ro…” Kyle said pleadingly, getting the lizardman’s attention again. When Rogelio looked down at the boy again, Kyle smiled. “Please?”

That was the moment when Lance realized why Kyle came to Rogelio for something this risky. Because Rogelio saw that look and his eyes softened. No matter the species, Lance knew that look. It was the same one that George gave him when he found himself unable to argue. The one that said that he’d do anything, no matter how stupid, just to see Lance smile like that again.

Rogelio still sighed louder, stepping away and pacing a circle on the floor while looking at the ceiling. He made a show of thinking about it, but Lance knew the decision was already made.

By Etheria, whether they knew it or not, Rogelio and Kyle loved each other. It was honestly adorable, as young love always was.

After a few circles walked, during which Kyle grew more anxious as he watched, Rogelio finally stopped and looked to the boy. He then nodded sharply, putting the clipboard and pencil he was holding on one of the nearby crates. He then paused and made a short growling sound.

“Oh, no, we can’t tell Lonnie,” Kyle said quickly, looking around as if expecting her to pop around a crate and catch them at that very moment. “We’re already going to be in _so much_ trouble if we get caught. I don’t want to drag anyone else into this.”

Rogelio raised an eye ridge, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

“Don’t look at me like that; I _had_ to at least come to you. Who else can I trust?” Kyle reasoned.

Lance grinned at the smile Rogelio gave Kyle. Oh yeah, those two had it _bad_ for each other. Finally, he braved speaking up. “This is great and everything, but… do you have a plan? I don’t know the layout for this place, so I don’t have anything.”

Rogelio and Kyle looked at him, then at each other. The lizardman put a talon to his chin, forehead scrunching as he looked thoughtful.

“I was thinking we could get you to the skiffs,” Kyle said, though he sounded uncertain. “The only problem would be getting one of them out without anyone noticing. Besides that, I don’t know where we’d take you from there.”

“Oh, that part is easy,” Lance assured him. “Just get me to the Whispering Woods, I can find my way back to the Library from there.”

Rogelio shook his head, making a series of loud growling sounds.

“I’m… sorry? I don’t understand lizard tongue, I don’t know what you’re saying,” Lance said apologetically.

“I can understand some, but I don’t know what that was,” Kyle added sheepishly. “It sounded like… something, something, danger, something?” He shrugged helplessly.

Rogelio sighed again. Lance was starting to think he did that a lot. He looked around, then walked over to a crate. He opened the top with his bare hands, which told Lance all he needed to know about why he was assigned this job. He reached inside and pulled out a Horde helmet. He turned and threw it to Kyle, who juggled it a moment before catching it in both hands. Rogelio then pointed at it, then at Lance.

Kyle looked at the helmet a moment, then realization dawned in his eyes. “He’s saying going back to the Library would be too dangerous,” he clarified, looking at Lance. “When they find out you escaped the Fright Zone, that’ll be the first place they look. You’d just be recaptured again.”

Lance’s breath nearly stopped in his throat, eyes going wide. Oh. He hadn’t thought of that. “I… I don’t have anywhere else I could go,” he admitted, heart sinking. He backed up and sat on a crate, running a hand through his dreadlocks.

Kyle exchanged another look with Rogelio then walked over to the crate. With some difficulty, he climbed up to sit next to Lance. “Hey… we’ll figure something out,” he said encouragingly. “I said I was going to get you out of here, and I will. And… I mean, you can’t have _nowhere_ else you can go. What about Bright Moon? That’s where Bow is, right?”

Rogelio made a curious sound, walking over as well. He stood in front of the sitting pair, hands on his hips.

“Lance is Bow’s dad,” Kyle explained. “I don’t know if Entrapta knew when she had us go get him. I can’t imagine she did. I mean… Entrapta and Bow are kind of, sort of friends, right? She wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Entrapta knows Bow?” Lance asked in surprise.

“If she didn’t mention him to you, then she probably _doesn’t_ know,” Kyle said with more certainty. “Anyway, that’s not important right now,” he waved a hand quickly. “Like I said, why don’t you just go to Bright Moon?”

“I’ve never been there,” Lance admitted lightly. “I wouldn’t know how to get there.”

“Oh,” Kyle said, blinking in surprise. “Well… what about any other town or village? Anywhere will do, as long as it’s not the Library. We’ll be the only ones who know where you’re going, and we won’t tell anyone.”

“I…” Lance hesitated, clenching his hands together tighter. He could feel panic starting to set in as he whispered, “I don’t know anywhere…”

Rogelio growled in disbelief. Kyle echoed it with, “That’s impossible, isn’t it? Even those of us in the Fright Zone know how to find _some_ places out there.”

Lance’s body began to shiver uncontrollably. This was it. This was the penalty for his sheltering. His inability – no, his _refusal_ to leave his home. He closed himself off from the world, and now the world couldn’t help him when he needed it.

“Hey, we’ll… I mean…" Kyle tried and failed to come up with some encouraging words, putting a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

“You don’t understand,” Lance croaked, pressing his hands to his face as tears welled up. “I don’t know how to go _anywhere_ because I’ve never _been_ anywhere. I’ve never left the Library in my life. I… this is the first time I’ve ever been off of the property. Here, in this place, held _prisoner_. I don’t… what am I going to do?”

Kyle looked helplessly at Rogelio, who shrugged in return. After a moment, the boy looked determined. “I’ll go with you in the Whispering Woods,” he said. “Only one of us has to know where to go, right? We do a lot of scouting work; we know where some of the villages the Horde hasn’t occupied yet are.”

“How do I let George know I’m okay, though?” Lance asked, taking a few deep breaths. He needed to calm down, as difficult as it was. This wasn’t the time or place to have a meltdown.

“Well… you were brought here, so he probably went to Bow since he’s in with the Rebellion, right?” Kyle offered. “Do you know Bow’s frequency for his tracker pad?”

Lance thought about it a moment, then shook his head. “We usually use ours to contact him, and his frequency is programmed in.”

Kyle hummed, at a loss.

Rogelio, however, had an idea. He spoke up, saying one short growl in lizard tongue. When the pair with him looked up, staring blankly, he rolled his eyes. He then walked over to one of the larger crates, ripping the side of it off in one pull. Inside was a Horde robot, which he pointed at.

Kyle gasped. “Entrapta! She used to be friends with Bow, maybe she still has his frequency!”

Lance looked to him, excited at first. He was right. But that would mean… he groaned. “I just _escaped_ her. You’re saying I have to go find her now?”

“Not necessarily,” Kyle said thoughtfully. “All we need is her tracker pad. But I have no idea how to get it from her.”

Rogelio growled again, looking at Kyle pointedly.

The boy looked up at him, then sighed. “Alright, you’re right. I guess we need Lonnie’s help, after all.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Angella finally have a long-needed conversation.
> 
> Meanwhile, Entrapta continues her search for her research partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't been replying to any comments in the last few chapters, and I apologize for that. I've been on vacation, and haven't had a stable internet connection, so I've been using it mostly just for posting. I appreciate every bit of feedback I've been getting, though, and I thank everyone who's been enjoying my fanfics!

The early morning air was crisp and cold as the sounds of sword cutting through the wind filled the training yards behind the palace. This was the part of Bright Moon people didn’t see from the front. Every other part of it was built on the idea of some Etheria-forsaken utopian kingdom. A beautiful palace, peaceful little villages dotting the outskirts, no sign that anything was ever wrong. But in the back, there were the barracks. The training grounds. The stables for the war horses. Well, there used to be stables for war horses. George wasn’t sure if they were retrained into workhorses after the Rebellion fell, or if Adora’s talking winged horse freed them as the first part of his apparent emancipation efforts.

The former soldier didn’t notice the cold as he swung. He wasn’t using one of the practice dummies, though he knew he should. He wasn’t ready for that, though. There was a significant difference after more than a decade of giving up a life of violence between swinging at air and swinging at something shaped like a person. He didn’t like that he was forced to pick his sword back up. He wished he could have never done so again.

The Horde forced his hand, though.

George had started an hour ago with his shirt on, but this was a kind of exertion he hadn’t exercised in so long. It wasn’t long before the shirt came back off, sweaty from the effort. He needed to see if they had any clothing in the barracks that could fit him suited for combat.

“Commander,” a dignified voice came from behind George, startling him.

The former soldier turned swiftly, sword pointed at the Queen of Bright Moon. She didn’t even flinch at the blade coming within inches of her chest. Her face remained impassive, seeming unimpressed by George’s accidental near-attempt at assassination.

“Angella,” George acknowledged, lowering the blade. “You shouldn’t sneak up on someone with a weapon. Considering you’ve got yourself caught up in another war with the Horde, you should already know that.”

The winged woman narrowed her eyes, the cold air around her dropping a few more degrees. “I have not _found_ myself in a war with the Horde,” she corrected sharply. “They continue to force my hand by attacking the people of this world. Whether in my kingdom or not, it would be criminal to ignore them as they suffer. There was a time when you not only understood this, but you cared for it.”

George glared back, sheathing his sword. “I never stopped caring,” he growled. “What am I supposed to do about it, though? I swore to never get involved in a Rebellion or war ever again.”

“Yet here you are, swinging around your blade as if you never put it down,” Angella pointed out.

“Because they forced _my_ hand this time,” George snapped. “They stole my husband away from me. Not that you care. I guess this just makes us even to you.”

Angella’s glare deepened, and she stepped forward. She raised a hand and, rather ungracefully, poked George in the chest. It was a hard jab as she spoke. “You have no right to speak to me that way! Micah was _your_ responsibility, and you failed him!” she yelled, voice resonating across the dark yard.

“I failed him because _you_ sent us to a losing battle!” George roared back, slapping the hand away. “I told you it was a trap! I told you that we didn’t have nearly enough troops, that if we went in blind that we’d lose! But you wouldn’t listen! You insisted that because _you_ were the Queen, the Princess, that _you_ had the highest authority! That _you_ knew better! You gambled _everyone’s_ lives, and you lost!” It was the same argument they had all of those years ago. He knew every beat of it by now.

But George wasn’t prepared when Angella replied with an agonized, “I know that, Commander!” There was a silence that echoed through the training yard afterward. Angella’s glare finally melted away, and she became something George had never seen before. Vulnerable. She slumped, one hand coming up to cover her face in pain while the other crossed over her chest defensively. “I know…” she repeated softly this time. “I sent my husband to his death. I may as well have been holding whatever weapon struck him down. I was so _sure_ that battle was the right move… I’ve been paying the price for it ever since…”

George didn’t know what to say. He was so used to their interactions turning to screaming matches since Micah died. So used to his ability to use it as ammunition that would be deflected every time. He wasn’t prepared for it to actually break through Angella’s defenses and leave her shivering against the cold night air, tears welling up in her eyes.

By Etheria… that was when George realized that whenever he faced up against Angella, he became the person he was right after the First Rebellion ended. The person he fought and forced himself to stop being because he was angry and spiteful and… and someone he became ashamed of. Someone who hurt people to make himself feel better about his own failings.

George almost wanted to do the same thing he always did for Lance. Reach out and hold Angella and assure her that she was okay. He knew that wasn’t what she needed, though. Wasn’t what she’d want. So instead, he gave a gentle, “I’m sorry.” It was something neither was willing to say yet both needed. But someone had to say it before their anger at each other tore them to pieces.

Angella took a breath in, looking up at George in surprise. After a moment, she finally replied, “I am as well. It was never fair of me to blame you. You’re right, it was my decision. I was so angry and petty, though…”

“Petty?” George asked in disbelief. “About what?”

Angella wiped the tears from her eyes, pursing her lips together. “It’s so silly now, I’m embarrassed to say…” she admitted, looking at the ground as her cheeks flushed a bit. After a moment, she said, “I always thought Micah liked you more than I after you became close.”

“What?” George barked out a laugh. He hadn’t meant to, he knew it was rude. But that had been so unexpected.

Luckily, Angella didn’t take offense. Instead, she let out a chuckle of her own. George had never seen her laugh before. It was actually lovely. “I told you it was silly now. But when you became friends with Micah, he started spending more time with you and I… well, I was starting to think that maybe he preferred your company to mine,” Angella admitted, looking away in embarrassment. “You have to understand, it started after Glimmer was born. I was feeling… ugly. Irritable. I just had a baby in the middle of a war, so I felt useless on top of it all. That was when you were promoted to Commander because Micah needed extra help with the army. And in those few years afterward, the feelings never went away. You and Micah kept getting closer, and I just got more jealous.”

“Angella…” George said in amusement, tilting his head. “You’re the one he married. He loved you and Glimmer more than anything in the world. He never did anything but talk about the two of you and how amazing you were. I… was admittedly not receptive to it. Can’t say I was ever jealous, I just… we never really got along, so I got used to not liking you.” It was weird saying it out loud so casually to the Queen of Bright Moon.

Angella looked surprised. She then said uncertainly, “I… admit that I had assumed… well…” Her face flushed, and she cleared her throat awkwardly.

Now George was curious. “You assumed what?”

The winged woman hesitated, face turning even pinker. She then admitted, “I assumed you were in love with my husband. I thought that was why you didn’t like me.”

Well, this just seemed to be the morning for George’s disbelieving laugh to fill the training yards. He put a hand on his head, unable to stop himself this time. After a moment, Angella’s laughter finally joined it, for once unrestrained. It was a ringing sound, as beautiful as the Queen of Brightmoon herself.

And just like that, the spell of hatred between them was broken. Almost two decades of spite and anger dispelled by finally talking about what had been hanging between them. Cleaning it like the infection it was and leaving them with an understanding they could never reach before.

It was finally time for the Queen of Bright Moon and the Commander under His Majesty to stand united in their cause.

=======

“Hey! Yeah, you!”

Entrapta was never good at social etiquette. She barely knew what it was, let alone how to conduct it. It wasn’t exactly something that she was important when dealing with robots, and Hordak certainly had no care for it. Other people, though? Apparently, they didn’t like it when one referred to them as ‘hey, you.’ She didn’t know how else to get attention, though.

The Horde soldiers walking down the hall turned at the sound of her yelling, staring as she ran down the hall towards them. Entrapta caught up and bent over, gasping for air as she held up a finger. “One… one second…” she requested, the other hand on her knee. The box of chopped up ration bars she’d gotten was clutched by one of her pigtails, wrapped around it tightly so it wouldn’t pop open. “I’m not used to running around in big open halls… geez…” Finally catching her breath, she arched her back and stretched it, feeling the bones pop.

The entire time the soldiers just watched her in the same fascination that she usually observed other people. Were they fans of observing social interactions as well? She’d have to ask them later, she’d love to compare notes. Right now, she had something important to ask. “Okay, I’m good,” she announced. “Have you seen a man come this way? Dark skin, long hair, glasses? About this tall?” Her free pigtail lifted until it was the height she remembered Lance being.

“Wasn’t that the new guy?” one of the soldiers asked the other one.

“Yeah, saw him with Scorpia earlier. She was trying to sneak around with him,” Soldier #2 nodded. “You know Scorpia, though. Not exactly the stealthiest person in the Horde.” Soldier #1 nodded sagely at the words.

“Oh, thanks!” Entrapta called, heading down the hall.

“Wait, Scorpia’s going to be in-!” Soldier #1 called after her.

“Forget it, that’s Entrapta. She moves at her own pace,” Soldier #2 cut them off.

The scientist wasn’t offended by it. They were telling the truth, she didn’t slow down for anything or anyone. Scorpia. She liked Scorpia. She was kind and friendly to Entrapta, even tried her best to keep pace with her thought processes and discoveries. The pigtailed woman wasn’t sure Scorpia _succeeded_ in that, but the thought was admirable. And if anyone would be willing to help her locate her wayward research partner, it was the Force Captain.

Wait. Entrapta skidded to a stop when she realized she had no idea where Scorpia was. Or where _she_ was for that matter. “Hey-” the scientist turned around, but the soldiers had already moved on. She was all alone in the hall again. She sighed. This was getting to be complicated.

Still, Entrapta wasn’t the type of person to give up. She just had to start approaching this like the technological genius she was.

The scientist grabbed the box out of her hair. She made a chair out of the long pigtails, hopping on and crossing her legs underneath her. She put the box on her lap, pulling out her tracker pad. She opened it up and started up her mapping program. She’d already used it to map out the ventilation system in the Fright Zone. If she used that information alongside her limited knowledge of how the corridors ran alongside it, as well as the layouts and sizes of the rooms, then it shouldn’t be long before she had at least a rudimentary map of the Fright Zone itself.


End file.
